


Stop and Say You Love Me

by eyesofshinigami



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky likes to read okay, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Like really so small you barely notice, M/M, Mentions of memory loss, Smut, Stucky Big Bang 2017, Ten points to anyone who gets the book reference, lots of book talk, sbb2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/pseuds/eyesofshinigami
Summary: Bucky doesn't ever remember he and Steve's shared past. Steve doesn't fault him or blame him, it just is what it is. They're dealing with it together, even though their friends don't always seem to understand. None of that stops them from figuring out how they used to fit together. It's not the same, but maybe it's something even better than before.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Well, we did it, team. This fic was a bit of a struggle to get finished and there were a lot of ups and downs, but here we are. Special thanks go to (artist) for the last-minute pinch hit, as well as the awesome rohkeutta for giving me additional art and being awesome. Also, thanks to whispersofdelerium and cobaltmoony for their constant support and cheerleading, especially when I didn't think I was going to make it. Big shout out to my beta iwillpaintasongforlou for giving this a lookover. And thanks to the SBB mods for putting this on.
> 
> Title comes _Stop and Say You Love Me_ by Evans Blue, which is one the songs that makes me think of Stucky.

Steve has spent a long, long time understanding the fact that people always make assumptions about who he is, what he believes. They did it in the forties, when a good stiff breeze could knock him over. It got worse when he became Captain America, people seeming to forget that he was still Steve Rogers, even if he put on a costume. And frustratingly enough, it hasn’t changed since he was freed from the ice. He likes to think he’s been a pretty good sport about it all, shrugging it off when people force their expectations of who he is onto him. He takes it in stride and gives them the “Apple Pie and Sunshine Smile” and goes about his business.

But this? This has his teeth set on edge.

Of course, Steve is ecstatic when Bucky shows up on his doorstep, begrudgingly asking for help. He’s thrilled that he gets to be by his best friend’s side, supporting him through his long road to recovery. It’s been messy and sometimes Steve feels like they’re going in circles, but watching Bucky slowly building back a sense of self has been phenomenal. It doesn’t even matter that Bucky isn’t the same anymore; he’s just happy that his best friend is safe, warm, and learning what it means to be happy again.

Which is why, for the life of him, he can’t understand why people seem to think he’s a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. All of his friends have been tip-toeing around him and Bucky for the last couple of months. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why, but he really, really wants to think it’s not true.

It comes to a head when he’s in the gym, punching the bag. He sees Sam walk in out of the corner of his eye and he doesn’t miss the way Sam approaches him. It’s the stance he always uses when approaching Bucky on his bad days. Steve grits his teeth and waits.

“Hey man…how’s it going?” Sam asks genially.

 _Thump. Thump._ “Fine. How are you? Nice to see you in New York. VA okay?” Steve replies, still throwing punches.

Sam shifts and folds his arms across his chest. “Good, good. So…uh…how’s everything with Barnes?”

There it is. “Going good. Bucky’s really making good progress.” He’s not sure what else to say. Shouldn’t Sam be asking Bucky these questions instead? Steve loves Sam, he really does, but if this conversation is heading where he thinks it is, he’s not going to hold back.

“That’s great! So…um…has he remembered anything?”

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._ “Vaguely. He remembers me being smaller. Remembers his name.” Steve hits the bag harder, pain radiating out from his knuckles as they hit the canvas.

Sam frowns. “Oh. Uh, I thought you said he was making progress though? What does his therapist say?”

“That he might not ever remember,” Steve replies blandly.

“And you’re okay with that?”

 _WHAM!_ “It’s not about me. It doesn’t matter whether I’m okay with it or not. It just is.”

“But I mean…”

The punching bag goes flying through the air, smacking against the opposite wall hard enough to knock bits of it to the ground. Steve turns and Sam’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Do you really think so little of me? Is that what everyone thinks?” Sam bites his lip, but Steve barrels on. 

“Have I given you the impression that I’m suddenly going to…what, kick him out because he doesn’t remember the good old days when we were kids? The man has been brainwashed repeatedly for decades. How selfish would I have to be to think just because he’s not the same, or can’t remember, that it means he’s not worth it to me?”

Sam has the decency to look abashed. “You’re right, Steve. That was…I’m sorry, I assumed.”

“Yeah, well, join the club. It’s not like it’s a new thing,” Steve grumbles, walking over to pick up the bag. It’s leaking sawdust everywhere and the wall will definitely have to be repaired. He really needs to talk to Tony about coming up with some kind of reinforcement. “When I said ‘til the end of the line, I meant it. Bucky’s my family and I love him. I’d do the same for you, if it happened to you.”

“I know you would. I’m still sorry. I talk a big game about knowing you but I guess I still don’t,” Sam replies sheepishly.

Steve sighs. “No, it’s just…I know it’s easy, to get caught up. And I mean, we haven’t really talked about it before. Does it bother me? Sometimes. Do I let that get in the way of helping him? Not one bit. Sometimes he asks and then I tell him, but forcing him to remember things he can’t will only torture us both.”

Sam claps him on the back and smiles, though Steve can see it’s a little tight around the edges. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sam Wilson, even if you are an ass for assuming things,” Steve says, offering a smile of his own.

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. And just for that, you’re buying lunch.”

The groan Sam lets out is absolutely satisfying.

-*-

Steve is still thinking about it when he gets back to their apartment. Has he given the impression that he wants to force Bucky into some kind of mold? Like he won’t be satisfied unless he gets his best friend back like nothing ever happened? It’s a pretty unrealistic expectation, he thinks, considering he’s not the same person either. But maybe he’s done that without realizing it.

Maybe he just needs to talk to Bucky.

Thankfully, the man in question is sitting cross-legged on their couch, nose buried in a book. He’s reading some book on Buddhist principles; probably something he picked up from Bruce. Bucky’s become a voracious reader and Steve has no qualms about indulging it. He hates to interrupt.

“Buck? You gotta minute?”

Bucky looks up, gray eyes roving over Steve. He’s gotten used to Bucky’s habitual assessing stare and just waits for a reply. “Sure,” he says finally, setting the book aside. He lounges back on the couch, seemingly at ease, but Steve knows better. Even in soft black sweats and a white tank top, the line of tension is obvious.

Steve sighs and sits down heavily, not sure where to start. “Have I…” he tries, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Have I made you feel like…you’re not good enough?”

“What?” Bucky asks, brows furrowing. He cocks his head and his eyes roam over Steve again.

“Like…well, have I made you feel like I expect anything of you?” he clarifies.

Apparently, he doesn’t do a very good job of it, because Bucky’s eyebrows knit together. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Clearly I’m screwing this up.” He draws another breath and folds his hands in his lap. “You know I don’t expect you to remember anything from before, right? Like, you’re still important to me even if you never remember how we met, or what your Ma looked like, or that you carried your favorite marble with you even on missions with the Commandoes?” He swallows and looks up at Bucky, who is staring at him blankly. “What I mean to say is, I don’t want you to feel pressured to be the same person you were. It would be pretty asshole-ish of me, since I’m not the same either, but. Yeah,” he finishes awkwardly.

A beat of silence passes and then Bucky lets out a snort. “You don’t, though. I may not remember our friendship from way back then, but we managed to be friends again now, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah we did,” Steve agrees, smiling.

“And it’s not like you bring shit up to make me feel bad. I ask, you tell me. Other than that, we get along just fine here and now. I trust you, and you trust me. Isn’t that all we need?”

Steve feels warmth fill the pit of his belly. “Yeah, Buck.” He claps Bucky on his shoulder and squeezes. The skin on metal contact is enough to make him shiver a little. “That’s all we need.”

-*-

 

It hasn’t always been this easy. Steve can easily remember when Bucky first showed up on his doorstep, soaked in blood and blank-faced. He had just appeared in Steve’s living room in the apartment he kept in Brooklyn for when the tower got too much. Steve had walked out of the kitchen and there he was, sitting on the couch and clutching his metal arm close to his body. 

_“I need help, but don’t touch me,” was all Bucky had said._

_Steve had nodded, careful to move around him with his hands up. “Okay, I can do that. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head a little._

_Bucky had stared at him for a long moment. It was long enough that Steve started to have to fight the urge to fidget, lest he startle Bucky into a negative reaction. Finally, he blinked and said, “The blood isn’t mine. My arm is just…” he trailed off. He lifted it up and it had made a horrible clicking noise followed by something that sounded like an engine sputtering out, but louder. “You aren’t going to ask?”_

_“Buck, what you do is your business, okay? You don’t have to answer to me, or anyone,” Steve managed to reply. As much as he wanted to argue, to have Bucky know that he’s in Bucky’s corner, he didn’t want to impose. Bucky had spent so long being controlled and coerced, Steve couldn’t stomach being someone else added to that list. “I’m just...I’m just here for you, okay?”_

_And he’d meant it._

_Another beat passed with Bucky watching him. Familiar, yet unfamiliar blue-gray eyes had searched his face until Bucky said, “You mean that.”_

_Steve nodded. “I do.”_

_“Because I share a face with some dead guy?” Bucky had sneered. It was intended to hurt, but Steve had known Bucky for too long to believe it._

_“Because you’re James Buchanan Barnes. You might not remember being him, you may never remember, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are.” Steve had taken in a shaky breath and had to look away. “And even if you weren’t, I’d still help you.”_

_Bucky got to his feet and walked over. Steve couldn’t help the way he tensed, bracing himself for a fight. A phantom ache throbbed through his gut. Instead, Bucky simply said, “I believe you.” He swallowed and it was his turn to look away. “I...know you. I know I do. That’s enough for now, right?”_

_“Sure is. Now, let’s get you cleaned up. Are you hungry?” Bucky nodded and Steve led him down the hall and towards the guest bedroom. “I’ll make you some dinner while you shower, get you some clean clothes. Then...I guess we’ll see what we can do about your arm.”_

-*-

And they had. Now, Bucky and Steve share Steve’s apartment in the Tower. Bucky has been seeing a therapist that Sam had recommended for months now, and it seems to be doing him a world of good. It’s a good thing, Steve reminds himself.

“Hello, earth to Steve. What brought on that conversation?” Bucky asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. He puts his bookmark into his book and sets it aside. Now Steve knows he’s got all of his best friend’s attention. 

Steve lets out a sigh. “Sam brought it up again.” He can’t fight his smile when he hears Bucky groan. “Asked me about how I was handling your progress, wanted to talk about my feelings. The usual.”

“Did you tell him it’s none of his business? I like the guy, but sometimes he needs to learn to leave well enough alone.”

“Sam means well,” Steve defends, but then sighs again. “He just wants to make sure we’re both still okay.” He bites his lip. He’s been honest before with Bucky about just how _not_ okay he was for a while. “I just don’t think he understands.”

“What is there to understand?” Bucky says with a scowl. “Our friendship is none of his business. I haven’t killed you, and you haven’t kicked me out. So we’re good.” 

Steve laughs despite himself. He wishes that it had been that simple. The process of them both healing has been long and hard-fought. 

“And I wish your friends would have more faith in you.”

That makes Steve sit up a little bit. “They’re your friends too, you know. Sometimes I even think they like you better than me,” he jokes weakly, but the humor is gone when he sees Bucky’s face. “They just don’t understand,” he repeats.

Bucky bites his lip and then blows out a sharp breath, just like how his therapist has taught him to. “I just don’t like seeing you all down about it. And it makes me angry.”

The warm feeling in his stomach swells again. “Thanks, pal. No matter what, just know that I’m glad you’re here now.”

A thoughtful look passes over Bucky’s face for a split second, before it gives way to a familiar cocky grin. Despite his lack of memories, sometimes he’s so much like the old Bucky that it makes Steve’s heart hurt a little. “You’re stuck with me, so get used to it. Now, I’m gonna go back to my book, don’t bother me with stupid questions.” And he does just that, picking his book back up. 

Steve takes the time to pick up his sketchbook and begins to draw as a companionable quiet settles over them. He’s not really paying attention to what he’s drawing as he lets his mind wander over the familiar strokes of pencil on paper. The scratching sound is soothing and he loses himself for a while.

He loses track of time. It’s not until Bucky nudges him in the side with his foot that Steve looks up, blinking. “What’s that?” Bucky asks, peering over his book. 

Steve looks down and feels his stomach drop a little. He’d sketched their ratty living room in the tiny apartment they shared in Brooklyn, back before the war. He could easily picture the water stained carpet, and the moth-eaten couch with the spring sticking out of the cushion on the end and its threadbare arms. Some of his sketches had covered the walls at Bucky’s insistence, especially over the rickety dining table and chairs they’d found in a dumpster. It was shabby and drab, but it was home. It was _theirs._

“Uh, it was our apartment. Back in the 40s,” he says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Despite his endless support of Bucky, sometimes it’s hard to be the only one who remembers. He feels like an overflowing vault at times, holding memories for the both of them. “I don’t know why I drew it. I wasn’t really thinking about anything.”

Bucky looks it over and lets out a thoughtful hum. “I think you forgot something. Didn’t we have some ugly brown curtains to go with the couch?” he asks. 

They were yellow, but Steve just nods. That little tidbit is just enough to loosen the band around his chest enough that he can breathe. “Your mom made them for us, so we couldn’t tell her no. Though they were pretty ugly.”

“Housewarming gift, I guess?” Bucky prompted. 

Steve knew this voice well; it meant that Bucky actually wanted Steve to fill in the blanks for him. “Something like that. She said it would liven the place up. Your mother very clearly understood where we were living, and she wanted to do what she could to make it better.” 

Bucky’s eyes go soft and he smiles. “She sounds like a great lady.” 

“She was. She pretty much took me in after my own ma died, even though I was grown and on my own at that point,” Steve replies just as softly. 

They’re quiet for a moment, until Bucky says, “I don’t tell you this enough, Steve, but thank you. I know it can’t be easy on you, but you’re still here.” 

Not really knowing what to say, Steve nods and licks his lips. “I meant it,” is all he manages. It makes him think of that first night, when Bucky came stumbling back into his life. It makes Bucky grin at him, and that makes it worth it. His best friend has been through so much hell, he deserves a few good things to make him smile. 

“Well, that’s enough feelings for the evening. Seriously, I’d like to finish my book, so stop interrupting me.”

Steve lets out a squawk of indignation. “You’re the one who stopped me, asshole!” 

Bucky sniffs and turns the page in his book, not even looking up. “I did no such thing.” For someone who can sit completely still for hours on end, not moving a muscle, it’s funny to watch the corner of his mouth tip up just the barest hint. It warms Steve through and through, that Bucky trusts him that much to let his guard down. 

Still doesn’t make him any less of an asshole, though.

-*-

It comes up again a couple of days later. Bucky had come back from therapy, storming through the gym in a fury that Steve hasn’t seen in quite some time. Every muscle is coiled tight and his forehead is creased with tension. He stops right in front of the mat where Steve and Natasha had been sparring. “Steve,” he growls out.

Immediately the sparring session has come to a halt. “What’s going on?” Steve asks, lowering his fists. He can feel Natasha watching them, but he ignores it. 

“What was my mother’s name?” he demands, eyes bright with anger. 

Steve is a little thrown. “Winifred. Her name was Winifred.” 

Bucky lets out a howl of fury and his fists clench tight at his sides. “Then who the fuck was Sophia?” 

“Sophia? Um...she was the little Italian lady who lived downstairs. She would watch us sometimes when my ma had to work at the hospital and yours needed a break. She’d feed us panna cotta and pinch our cheeks,” Steve replies, baffled by Bucky’s reaction. “Bucky, I-”

“Why can I remember her name, but not my own mother’s? Fuck, I hate this! Goddamnit,” Bucky yells, letting out another growl of frustration. “Fuck this. I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you later, Steve.” Before Steve can answer, Bucky’s storming back out the way he came.

A beat passes and Natasha asks quietly, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? He seems...volatile.”

Steve sighs. “Are you going to go and stop him?” When she laughs, he shrugs at her. “Bucky’s not going to hurt anyone. If anything, he’s going to go and stew in his bedroom for a while. Or go hang out on the roof until he cools off.” 

They move back into their sparring positions and begin again, though they manage to keep up the thread of conversation. “Does this happen often?” she asks, aiming a kick to his head. 

He blocks it with his forearm and strikes out with his fist. “Sometimes. It bothers him that he can’t remember. Which...I don’t blame him for.” He ducks and catches her across the knee with his foot. He knocks her down, but of course she rolls herself back to her feet and strikes again. 

The two trade blows, the sound of their feet squeaking against the mat echoing through the gym. Duck, dodge, strike, punch...it’s a dance that Steve knows well and can lose himself in. But of course, Natasha isn’t going to let things go as quickly as he had hoped. “I’m glad, you know.” 

“Glad?” Steve asks, swinging.

She darts out of the way and then jumps on him. Her thighs wrap around his neck in her classic move; he’s not sure why he didn’t see that coming. He struggles to get her off, but it’s no such luck. Instead, he swings her down and pins her to the mat. She lets out a breathy laugh that is barely audible. She unlocks her legs from around his neck and pushes back up onto her feet. “I’m glad that you don’t blame him. I know it would be easy to be...angry, or upset.”

He swallows around the lump in his throat. He knows how much it costs her to let him see the bits and pieces of her she keeps hidden somewhere deep and unreachable. Steve lets out a breath. “I am, sometimes. It’s hard but...it’s not his fault. Just like it’s not mine. It just...is.” He rubs the back of his neck. 

Natasha leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead. The small action makes him shiver. “I wish I would have had someone like you, when I was...recovering. It’s hard to remember.” Then, she shoves him and the corner of her mouth tips up, just the faintest bit. “Go. I bet he’ll need you more than I need to kick your ass.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but gets to his feet. “Yeah thanks,” he teases, smiling at her. He leaves her to it and heads up to the apartment, not surprised that Bucky isn’t anywhere to be found. Steve debates taking a quick shower, but decides against it. Bucky knows he was just at the gym and finding him is Steve’s top priority.

Bucky is exactly where he thought he’d be. He’s sitting on the edge of the rooftop of one of the alcoves, his feet dangling as he looks out over the skyline. “Wondered how long it would take you,” he says without looking up. 

“Wasn’t sure if you’d want me here, if I’m honest,” Steve replies as he sits down next to him. There’s a moment of vertigo when he looks down and sees nothing but gray streets and wisps of clouds, but it passes. Maybe it’s a bad sign that his preservation instinct is so low. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Not really, but I’m probably going to anyway.”

Steve nods and folds his hands in his lap. His skin prickles at the cold, but he can deal. It feels good after his sparring match with Natasha. He doesn’t speak, letting Bucky lead on this. Sometimes dealing with the wisps of memories that come and go can be a violent affair for the both of them. The others tease him about his impatience, his tendency to look before he leaps, but never with Bucky. For his best friend, Steve would wait forever.

But Bucky doesn’t keep him waiting long at all. “It just fucks me up. I can remember all the terrible shit, but the things that are really important just…aren’t there.” He turns to look at Steve for the first time since Steve sat down. His eyes are rimmed red and watery, though there are no tear tracks on his cheeks. “I can remember fifteen different ways to gut a man, Steve. Where to put a knife, or where to fire a bullet so that it causes maximum damage.” He pauses and takes a shaky breath. Steve has to fight the urge to touch him. “But then… I can’t remember what my ma’s face looked like. Or the first time you and I met. The first time I kissed someone. It’s just so fucking…” Bucky presses the heel of his palm into his eye.

“What? What is it?”

“It just feels like every time I start feeling like a real person again, something like this happens. Then I’m just reminded that I’m nothing more than charred out remains of someone that used to exist.” 

Steve’s stomach drops to his feet. His first response is to insist that no, that’s not true, but the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Sam says _Don’t. That’ll just invalidate what he’s feeling._ He flounders for a few moments, not sure what to say, finally settling on. “I wish I knew how to make you feel like that’s not true.” 

Bucky smiles sadly at him. “Work in progress,” he mutters, voice bitter.

“Aren’t we all?” Steve says, swallowing. He breaks their eye contact and looks down at his hands in his lap. Anything to not look at Bucky when he speaks again. “I get it, though. Feeling like that.” He doesn’t elaborate. He’s never really told anyone about the dysphoria he feels when he looks at himself in the mirror. “Sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own body. People tend to forget that for me, it’s only been a couple of years since I was a skinny little asthmatic nobody.” 

“Pal, you were never a skinny little nobody,” Bucky argues, chucking him gently on the chin.

Steve fires back, “Just like you’re not a husk of a human being.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but at least there’s a hint of a smile on his face now. “You can’t just turn shit around like that.”

“Sure I can.” Steve sits back, leaning his weight on his hands as he looks up into the sky. “You’d do it to me. And don’t pretend you wouldn’t,” he says, when Bucky starts to open his mouth. Steve laughs when he shuts it with a loud click. “Anyway, I have an idea. Come on.” He stands up and dusts off his shorts, offering a hand to Bucky. 

Bucky waves it away and stands up as well. “Where are we going?” 

“Trust me, okay?” Steve jokes, but he stumbles a little when he hears Bucky’s soft reply.

“Always.”

—

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Steve leads Bucky into Brooklyn on foot, the weather perfect for a walk. The neighborhood is similar to the one where their apartment building is, the one they keep even though they spend more time in the Tower now. Everywhere they look, people seem to be out and about, also enjoying the sunshine. Couples stroll by, kids are playing along the sidewalks. It makes Steve smile and reminds him of when they were younger. 

They wind through the streets at a leisurely pace, a comfortable silence settled over the both of them. It’s nice. For a while, Steve can just pretend that they’re just like anyone else. Sometimes he forgets what it’s like to just be Steve Rogers rather than Captain America. 

It’s not until they’ve been walking for about two hours that Bucky says, “Wait. I think I know this place…Steve…where are we?” 

They stop in front of a restaurant on the corner. It’s a shabby little deli, with a few white plastic tables out front that are worn from use. The painted lettering is peeling off the streaky glass of the window out front but it’s worth it to see Bucky’s eyes light up. “Holy shit, wait…we’ve been here before, haven’t we?” 

Steve beams. “Yeah. It’s changed hands a few times, but you and I used to come grab sodas and sandwiches here as kids.” The bell above the door chimes when Steve opens it and he ushers Bucky inside. It’s just as shabby on the inside, but It gives the little place a quaint feel that Steve loves. “I’ve come in a couple of times since they found me in the ice. The owners are real nice.”

“Anybody we know?” Bucky jokes, but he’s busy looking around.

The place has changed quite a bit since they were last here together. The paint color isn’t the same, and the booths have been replaced more than once, judging by the scuff marks on the floor, but it still feels the same. That familiarity is hard to find, these days. “Nah. Still okay?” 

Bucky’s smile could power a city block. “Yup. So, what’s good?” he says, rubbing his hands together. He’s glancing up at the menu and standing close enough to Steve that their arms brush. It’s…nice.

“Well, our special today is the Reuben. Been using the same recipe since the 20s,” a guy in a splotchy apron says from behind the counter. He winks at Steve. 

The first couple of times he came here, it threw him off, the way this man treated him. Even then, fresh out of the ice and confused about how the world around him had changed so much, Ed didn’t so much as bat an eye when Steve had stumbled into the familiar deli. He’d offered Steve a pastrami sandwich and a coke, and told him to sit and enjoy as long as he wanted. It was that small kindness that made him keep coming back.

Bucky’s eyes dull and his smile dims a little, pulling back into the mask of politeness. It hearts Steve’s heart to see it, but he gets it. He can’t begrudge Bucky his caution. “I think that sounds good. What do you think, Steve?” he asks pointedly. 

“Sure. Ed, we’ll take two Reubens and two Cokes, please.” 

The man grins, not even acknowledging Bucky’s change in demeanor. “You know where the cooler is. Help yourself.” Steve goes to pull out his wallet, but Ed waves him off. “On the house. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” 

He waits until Ed isn’t looking before pulling out his wallet anyway and stuffing what he would have paid for the meal into the tip jar. He was grateful for Ed’s kindness, but he didn’t want to take advantage. With that, Steve goes and grabs two bottles out of the cooler and sits down across from Bucky in the booth. He’s hit with a pang of nostalgia, thinking of the two of them sharing soda floats as children. It’s a good memory, but he keeps it to himself for the time being. 

The bottles are frosted and perfectly chilled. Steve cracks it open by popping the cap off with the edge of the table, a trick he learned from Clint. Bucky laughs and does the same, both of them sighing in pleasure after taking a sip. “This is real nice, Steve. Thanks,” Bucky says after a moment.

“I think we both needed it.” 

They sit in companionable silence, drinking their Cokes and waiting for their food. Bucky’s busy staring at all the pictures on the walls, as well as the nostalgic knickknacks that decorate rickety shelves and hanging from hooks. It’s the kind of kitschy stuff he would have scoffed at back in the day, but now he’s fascinated. Steve takes a moment just to watch him. 

He takes in the way Bucky’s eyes have softened and his muscles have lost their tension from early. He’s not quite smiling, but it’s far from the angry scowl Bucky’d been wearing when he stomped into the gym. Things aren’t okay, Steve knows, but for now it’s enough. 

“What are you staring at, punk?” Bucky asks, breaking him out of his staring.

“Just you,” Steve answers honestly. Bucky’s eyes go wide and he looks away. “Just glad that you’re feeling better, I guess.” 

Bucky shrugs. “Relatively. It is what it is, you know?” 

Steve does. That’s kind of become their mantra. Sometimes, Steve feels like his whole life can be summed up into that single phrase. It is what it is. That’s all either of them can do, really. 

“So, how did you find this place?” Bucky asks. It’s a brilliant sidestep, but Steve lets it slide. He knows when to push and when to just let it ride.

He takes another sip of his drink. “I got on the subway, not long after Shield released me into the wild, so to speak. I just needed to get out of my head.” He doesn’t remark that it had been Howard’s file, or Peggy’s, or the Commandos that had made his skin itch, made him need to get out and clear his head. “I didn’t really think about where I was going, I just…ended up here. Got off at the first street that sounded familiar and walked in,” he says with a laugh. “I bet I stuck out like a sore thumb, but Ed over there…he didn’t make a peep. The headlines had talked all about how I was out of the ice and being Captain America again, but he didn’t act any different. Just gave me a sandwich and a drink and told me to sit here as long as I wanted.” He smiles at the memory all over again. “Probably the best damn pastrami I’d ever eaten.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh and crosses his arms across his chest. “Why am I not surprised? Is that why you brought me here?”

“Sort of? I don’t know. It just felt like the thing to do,” he says, his ears going a little warm. 

“You’re such a sap, Rogers, how did you ever make it in this world without me?” Bucky tsks, but they both know what he means. Bucky might feel like his brains are scrambled eggs sometimes, but Steve knows he’s a sad sack without his best friend around. 

Their sandwiches come and it’s just as good as Steve remembers. The bread is soft and the meat is perfectly seasoned. The saurkraut has the right kind of sour kick and Steve enjoys every single bite. A glance over at Bucky and he nearly chokes on his bite. Bucky’s staring at it like he’s just seen the face of God himself. “This…is amazing. Holy fuck, Steve, why haven’t we come here before?” he demands, taking another huge bite. He looks ridiculous, with a smear of mustard on his upper lip. 

If only people could see the formidable Winter Solider now, happily devouring a sandwich with food on his face.

“We won’t make that mistake again, I assure you,” Steve teases, going back to eating his own sandwich. 

Once he’s finished, Bucky licks his fingers clean and lifts his coke bottle up. “To making new memories,” he says, smiling.

Steve doesn’t even hesitate before he clinks their bottles together. “To making new memories,” he repeats.

-*-

_It’s cold. Everything feels vast and empty around him. The air is swirling around him and everything hurts. His skin feels tight and stiff, like it will crack and peel at any moment. It’s stiffness in his limbs; he can’t move. He’s suspended, frozen, trapped. He tries to breath but his lungs fill with water. It prickles and stings, cold and unyielding. He needs to break free. He tries to will his arms to move, but they stay rigid against his sides. His body won’t respond and he can’t make anything move, what is happening, he thought he escaped…_

“Steve? Steve!”

He bolts upright and swallows back a scream. It takes him a moment to realize where he is. His sheets are soaked through with sweat even though he’s shivering off the last remnants of his nightmare. It’s been a while since he’s had one this bad. Steve glances up, not surprised to see Bucky’s wide, worried eyes hovering above him. He’s sitting on the bed, distant but close enough for comfort. “Did I wake you?” he croaks out. His throat feels like it’s on fire, rubbed raw from the phantom water in his lungs. 

Bucky gives him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, but I guess it’s only fair.” 

Steve wants to argue, but decides to table it for now. He’s been the one bursting through Bucky’s bedroom door when he’s in the throes of a nightmare too many times to count. “Sorry,” he still says. He rubs his face and gets to his feet; his bed is a bit of a lost cause. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

He almost says no. Part of him wants to bottle it up and put it on the back shelf in his mind where he keeps all of his fears and doubts and never look at it again. But, this is Bucky. Bucky’s the only person who has ever been allowed to see the soft underbelly of him, whether he was ninety pounds and wheezing, or over two hundred and still trying to pretend that things don’t hurt him. 

“Couch?” Bucky suggests, and Steve wordlessly follows. They settle in and Steve pulls a blanket from the back over his shoulders. Even though he runs hot, the chill of the ice echoes in his bones. He can’t seem to stop shivering. 

“Just…sometimes I dream about when I put the plane into the water. I remember drowning, and going cold.” He lets his words trail off. He’s told Bucky about this before, when Bucky had asked about why articles he looked up kept saying Steve died. For all intents and purposes, he did. “And even though I know I’m not there, sometimes-”

He startles when a sudden warmth presses along his side. Bucky’s so close that Steve can smell his shampoo, the soft mint smell soothing. It isn’t often that Bucky is so tactile, so Steve makes himself relax and enjoys the closeness. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that,” Bucky finishes for him. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, closing his eyes. 

_He had come home from a mission only to find the apartment in shambles. The couch was flipped over and ripped apart and the shelving unit had been ripped away from the wall. Books were strewn across the floor and there was a single bloody handprint smeared across the wall. Immediately, Steve’s entire body went rigid, on edge, as he moved into the living room._

_There was no sound. No footsteps, no rustling of fabric, not even the sound of the air conditioner clicking on. The only thing Steve could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He crept around the destruction of his living room and pressed his back against the wall in the hallway._

_“Bucky?” he called out._

_It happened in a blur. The next thing he knew, Steve was slammed onto the floor with a long, sharp knife pressed against his neck. Bucky snarls at him in rapid Russian and he pushes the blade down enough to break the skin._

_“Bucky,” he tried again. He kept his voice as even as he could. “Listen to my voice, it’s me, Steve.” The knife nicked his skin and he had to fight back a wince. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just got back from a mission-”_

_Another snarl and a stream of angry words he couldn’t understand came at him as Bucky hauled him to his feet. He’s pressed up against the wall and face to face with his best friend. Bucky’s eyes were wild and glassy, his lips pulled back over his teeth like a feral animal._

_He knew he could call someone; he probably should, but he didn’t want to spook Bucky any further. It’d been months since there had been an incident. Something must have triggered him.  
Steve continued to speak in slow, low tones and kept his hands close to his body in a non-threatening gesture. “It’s me, Steve. You know me. I promise, it’s just me,” he tried to soothe. _

_Bucky’s eyes narrowed and roamed across Steve’s face, like he was searching for something. Steve did his best to hold his breath and wait to see what Bucky was going to do next. The bite of the knife against his skin made him want to swing out, fight back, but he knew it would just make things worse._

_He barked out another word, then went back to searching Steve’s expression. When Steve didn’t react, Bucky’s posture relaxed a little and he asked in rusty English, “Are you my handler?”_

_“No, Buck. I’m Steve, your friend. This is our apartment. No more HYDRA,” he softly explained._

_Bucky frowned but didn’t speak._

_Steve took that as a cue to continue. “We’re in New York, in our place. This your home, with me,” he continued to say softly. His gut clenched as he waited to see if his words were going to get through. Please, please, please, he thought to himself, hoping that whatever force of good in this world would hear him. Bucky didn’t need this._

_Like the sun coming out after a rainstorm, the haze over Bucky’s started to clear and the frown smoothed out into a look of confusion. “Steve?” he asked shakily. He glanced down at the knife in his hand and dropped it like it had burned him. “Steve…” His voice broke._

_Just as Bucky’s knees began to give out, Steve was right there to catch him. He wasn’t going to let him fall again. It might have looked strange to anyone else, seeing them pressed like this, but Steve kept his best friend cradled close to him as Bucky began to sob. “It’s okay, pal. We’re…not okay, but we’re going to be.”_

“Steve? You with me?”

The familiar voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here. Just…shit, I don’t know,” he says with a croaky laugh. He pushes the heel of his hand against his eye and lets out a deep breath. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Bucky waves him off. “After how many times I’ve woken you up after a nightmare, I feel like you’re allowed a few of your own.” He holds out a mug of something warm and sweet-smelling; mostly likely the herbal tea Bruce makes for him. Steve hadn’t even realized Bucky had gone to the kitchen. “I know it smells like flowers, but it really does help.” 

He takes the mug without complaint. It does smell like flowers, but in a good way. They sit in silence for a few moments, each of them drinking their tea and lost in their own thoughts. After a beat or two, Bucky says, “You know, it’s okay that you’re not okay all the time. You’re allowed to be.”

“Am I though?” Steve asks, unable to keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. Sometimes carrying the shield makes him feel like Atlas, the mantle he wears pressing down on him until he can barely breathe. It’s easy sometimes to forget where Captain America ends and Steve Rogers begins when they’re both carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. 

“With me, you are,” Bucky replies, sipping his tea. “I ain’t made of glass, I can shoulder some of your burden too, if you let me.” 

All the fight floods out of Steve like the air out of a balloon. “You always were pretty good at that.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smile. 

“Seems like I still am. Always cleaning up your messes and getting you out of scrapes. Were you this much trouble when we were younger?” 

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh despite how much the question stings. “Probably worse, because back then my mouth was bigger than the rest of me.”

Bucky taps his chin and purses his lips. “Like an angry chihuahua,” he says fondly, cackling when Steve tries to shove him off the couch with his foot. “Nah, even with my Swiss cheese memory, I don’t think I’d take it back for anything. I like all your piss and vinegar.” 

“Gee thanks.” Steve rolls his eyes, but his cheeks glow a little with the warmth settling behind his ribs. He lets out a gusty sigh and looks down at the tea still swirling in his mug. “Thanks, Bucky.”

Bucky knocks their knees together and gives Steve one of his private smiles, the ones that only seem to come around once in a blue moon. It makes him like nineteen again, all dimples and sparkly eyes. “You’d tell me the same thing, punk. Rules ain’t different just because it’s you. If I’m allowed to not be okay sometimes, so are you.” 

He swallows down the token protest, about how he can get by on his own and he doesn’t need Bucky to do that. Steve seventy years ago might have thought that, but present Steve knows better. He’s got friends, and he’s got Bucky, even though Bucky’s the only one who gets to see the softest parts of his underbelly. “This is why I need you to remind me.”

“Damn straight, pal.”

His tea is cold, but Steve feels warm all over. 

  
-*-

“Cap, there’s three on your left and it looks like they’re coming in hot!” Tony shouts over the comms. He zooms above and the crack of repulsor fire echoes through the air. Steve turns just in time to knock one of the guys over the head with his shield. 

This was supposed to be just a milk run. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Natasha were the only ones to go, thinking that even the four of them might be an overkill. But due to bad intel or just their shitty luck, the mission had quickly gone to hell. 

Steve is just ready for it to be _over._

His ribs ache from a hit that he took from a club one of the agents carried, and there’s a deep, healing gash across his back that burns as it heals. Nothing vital has been hit, but Steve can feel himself start to wear down. Pain is pain, no matter how invulnerable you may seem.

Another bullet skids across his jaw as he dodges just in the nick of time. His assailant’s head explodes in a gory burst right after. “Thanks, pal,” he says, even though Bucky doesn’t respond. 

Bucky never really talks during the missions he gets called on. He told Steve once that between the focus of the fight and keeping the Soldier in check, he can’t afford to engage in their usual banter. Steve can respect that.

Focus. He hurls the shield at another combatant barreling towards him. The numbers of soldiers had dwindled, but it still seems like they’re never-ending. His muscles ache and burn from the strain he’s putting on them. 

“Fifteen seconds until this place blows,” Natasha says in his ear piece. That must mean they got whatever they’d come for. He twists and knocks another Hydra agent down. He swings. He dives. He flips out of the way. 

Steve lands solidly on his feet and goes to swing his shield again, but he stops when something red-hot flares in his gut. He grunts and looks down, blinking at the slowly blooming red stain on his abdomen. He’s been shot before, but this _hurts._ It feels like acid bubbles up and out of the wound, racing through his veins. He lets out another small moan of pain before he drops to his knees. 

His vision is starting to blacken around the edges. “Help…” he manages to get out. 

The last thing he hears before everything goes dark is Bucky screaming out, “Steve!”

-*-


	2. Part II

—

The world phases back into focus in fits and starts. Steve hears people talking around him, and once, he thinks he even hears someone crying. He sleeps, deep and dreamless. At one point, he wakes up long enough for someone to feed him ice chips before he slips back under. 

Finally, he creeps back into consciousness, like he’s cresting after being underwater. He cracks his eyes open and blinks up at the blinding fluorescent lights above him. His head spins a moment and he shakes his head against the dizzy feeling. He takes a deep breath and glances over to his bedside. 

Bucky is looking down at a newspaper in his hand, but the lines on his face give away that he’s not actually reading it. His skin is pale, drawn, and Steve can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Bucky’s slept. 

“Buck…” he croaks out.

Bucky’s on his feet so fast the chair scrapes against the floor. “Steve, you’re awake,” he breathes out. His voice is soft in a way Steve hasn’t heard it be in a long time. “How do you feel?” 

He takes a moment to assess. He’s healed, he knows, but his body still aches and his head feels a little heavy. It’s reminiscent of when he used to get the flu in the winter. He’s not sure if Bucky would remember that, so he decides on, “Better, I think. A little sore. What happened?”

“The bullet was laced with something, Stark and Banner are still trying to figure out what exactly it was. Thankfully, they were able to neutralize it before it burned you up from the inside out.” 

Steve nods along. As much as it hurt, better him than Natasha or Clint. Still, the haunted look in Bucky’s eyes makes him reach out and take his friend’s hand. “How long was I out?”

Bucky squeezes his hand in return. “At least three days,” he answers quietly, looking down at where their fingers are folded together. “This…this has happened before, hasn’t it?’ 

At first, Steve isn’t sure what he means by that. His mind drifts back to the last time he woke up in the hospital, when it was Sam perched by his bedside instead of Bucky. The remembered notes of the Troubleman soundtrack plays in his memory for a moment, but then he shakes his head a little. “What do you mean?” he asks instead.

“I just… I feel like this has happened before. I’ve sat up at your bedside before like this before, right?” The anxious lines around his eyes deep as Bucky looks at Steve for answers. 

Steve lets out a deep breath. Bucky prompted him, so he’s inclined to tell him the truth. “Yes, lots of times. Remember when you asked that one time if I was smaller?” When Bucky nods, he continues. “Well, that’s because I was sick, pretty much all the time. I was small, frail, and my health was so bad. There were lots of times when you’d stay up all night, even though you had work the next day, because I was sick. It got bad enough sometimes that Ma would call the priest from down the block to come give me my last rites, but you’d always chase ‘em out before they got the chance.” He chuckles at the memory. He was usually too out of it to remember any of it, but he could dimly remember listening to his mother and Bucky arguing about it. “Somehow, I’d always pull through. You used to joke-”

“That you were just livin’ through it out of spite,” Bucky finishes for him. Some of the tightness around his eyes loosens just a bit. “Seems like nothing’s changed.” He squeezes Steve’s hand again and his eyes go a little distant. “I was really scared, Steve. Natasha and Sam kept reminding me that you’d heal, but…” his voice trails off. 

It hurts, knowing that he caused Bucky such pain, but at the same time, he can’t stop the warmth that blossoms behind his ribs at Bucky’s words. Things aren’t the same; their friendship has changed, just like the two of them have changed. It’s good to hear that this hasn’t. “I know, Buck. I’m sorry. I’d probably be exactly the same if it were you laying here instead of me.” 

Bucky’s head shoots up and his eyes dart across Steve’s face for a moment before he smiles. “You’re a worse mother hen than me, Rogers. Everyone knows it.”

The moment is broken, but Steve lets it go for now. He rolls his eyes. “You’ve certainly had more practice than me at it.” 

“Well maybe if you weren’t always getting yourself into trouble. I swear to god, Steve, we oughta just put you in bubble or something…”

Steve lets the sound of Bucky’s bickering wash over him as he closes his eyes. It’s familiar and wonderful. He can feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness, soothed by the sound of his best friend’s voice in his ears. 

—

The next morning Steve wakes up to Bruce standing over his hospital bed, scribbling something on a clipboard. Despite his assurances that he wasn’t “that kind of doctor”, Bruce tends to take over some of the duties of the hospital staff any time one of the Avengers is hurt. Plus, Steve fuzzily recalls, he and Tony were currently studying whatever was in the bullet that made him fall so hard. 

“Morning,” Bruce says distractedly, glancing at one of the machines near Steve’s head. “How are we feeling?” 

“Sore, hungry. The usual.”

Bruce nods and takes another note. “Barnes said that he was grabbing you something to eat. He wouldn’t say what, and of course he wouldn’t listen when I told him nothing too heavy.” The corner of Bruce’s mouth quirks up. “And he refused to let you eat hospital food.”

Steve laughs even though it makes his side hurt. “Sounds about right.”

There’s a pause, the steady pulse of his heart rate monitor the only sound in the room. It seems like forever before Bruce murmurs, “I was wrong, you know.” 

“Wrong?”

“Yes. I was wrong about Barnes, er-Bucky.”

It takes Steve a moment to remember what he’s talking about. It had been right after Steve had brought Bucky into the tower, when everything was still tense and easily breakable. Bucky had let Bruce examine him, only because Steve had asked. Two tense hours went by and finally Bruce gave them the all-clear, but had pulled Steve aside later. 

_“You know he’s not the same person that you remember. He probably will never be.” Bruce said, arms folded across his chest. Steve couldn’t miss the heavy line of tension in his shoulders as he spoke. “His brain is healing, but there’s a lot of damage. Neural pathways have been completely burned away, and the parts of his brain responsible for memory retention are heavily scarred. It’s…not likely that he’ll ever remember being James Barnes.”_

_Steve’s back bowed up and his jaw clenched tight. “Okay, so? What are you trying to say?”_

_Bruce blinked at him. “This man may never be your best friend again, Steve. I just want you to prepare yourself for that. Once he heals, he may not…want to be here. May not want to have the same sort of closeness with you. You can’t force that on him.”_

_“That’s not what this is about,” Steve grit out. He flexed his fist and counted to ten in his head to keep from punching Bruce at the insinuation. He didn’t need to deal with the Hulk on top of all of this. “I don’t care about that. Even if he never remembers, that doesn’t change the way I feel. He’s still someone who needs help and we’re the only people that can do that.” He can’t help the hurt in his voice, the way it stings. He thought Bruce knew him better than that._

_Bruce winced, and let out a sigh. “Of course. I just…I don’t know. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now. It must be strange.”_

_“It’s not about me,” Steve reminded him. “It’s about what’s best for him. Now, what can I do?”_

“I had forgotten about that,” Steve says, shaking off the memory. He’d been so angry at Bruce, but he could also understand where the other man was coming from. It doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.   
Bruce keeps resolutely looking down at his clipboard. “I was wrong about you, as well. I still didn’t know you then, the way I do now. And for that, I’m sorry.” 

Steve feels a bit gobsmacked, but he smiles and pats Bruce on the arm. “It’s all right. It was…you weren’t wrong for being concerned.”

“I know, but I still felt like I needed to say it.” Bruce finally lowers the clipboard and looks Steve in the eye this time. “I’m not quite as bad as Tony when it comes to this, but. I’m happy that things have worked out for you so well.” Shadows pass across Bruce’s eyes, but they’re gone as quick as they appeared. 

“Yeah,” is all Steve can think to say. Bruce finishes up and leaves the room without anything more than small talk. It gives Steve a chance to think a little bit before Bucky appears in the doorway with a small, tentative smile and a greasy white bag clutched in his other hand. Something in Steve settles and he leans back against the pillow, rubbing his hands together at the prospect of eating whatever treat Bucky’s brought him.

-*-

Life goes on. Eventually Steve gets out of the hospital, still a little sore from the poison that had ravaged his body. Tony assured him that he would be fine, that his system just had to readjust and finish purging it before he’d feel completely better. He’s not allowed on missions for the time being, but secretly Steve is okay with that. A little rest and relaxation never hurt everyone.

He should have known it would be too good to be true.

Bucky had an appointment with his therapist, so he hadn’t been able to be there when Steve was discharged. Sam had been the one to help him hobble towards the elevator and up to the floor that he was sharing with Bucky during their stay in the Tower. Steve could admit that he was disappointed, but he understood how important it was for Bucky. 

“You sure you’re going to be all right?” Sam asks as the elevator doors open. It’s just as Steve remembers; the apartment is impersonal, much colder and distant than the place he and Bucky share in Brooklyn. It’ll do for a couple of days. “I can hang out until Barnes gets back, it’s no problem.”

Steve waves Sam away, patting him on the back. He means well, but Steve kind of wants to just go back to sleep. “I’ll be fine. I have you on speed dial if I need anything.”

Sam nods tightly and helps him to the couch before heading out. 

Once alone, Steve lets his head fall back and takes a deep breath. Super strength or no, the trip up from the hospital wing had wore him out. He keeps his eyes closed and lets himself relax into the soft, cool leather of couch. 

After a beat, his ears prick when he hears a tiny sound coming from somewhere behind him. He lifts his head and glances around, not sure what he heard. He scoots into a sitting position and calls out, “Hello?” 

There’s no answer. He hopes that he’s just hearing things and it’s not someone stupid enough to break into their apartment. No, JARVIS would have caught onto anything suspicious like that. 

He gets to his feet, gritting his teeth against the fatigue in his muscles. He turns around and his heart sinks to his feet. The tiny sound he’d heard was Bucky, who is huddled into a corner with wide, panicked eyes. His arms are wrapped around his knees and Steve can see that he’s shaking. His breaths come in short bursts and Bucky doesn’t even seem to realize that he’s there. 

“Bucky?” he asks, not wanting to spook him. It’s not the first time he’s dealt with Bucky having a panic attack; he’s just not sure what triggered it this time. He approaches with light feet and careful steps. 

It takes Bucky a minute to glance up at him. His mouth is a rigid line and his jaw is clenched tight. He doesn’t speak, but he is at least responsive. That’s a good sign. 

Steve lets out a soft sound and crouches down, careful not to touch his friend. It hurts, but Bucky needs him right now. “Can you talk?” he asks, and bites his lip when Bucky shakes his head. “All right, you don’t need to talk. Do you want me to stay?” 

It cracks his heart right down the middle when Bucky pauses, but eventually he nods. “Keep talking, please,” he grits out through his teeth. 

Okay, he can do that. So, Steve talks. He talks about his walk with Sam, about the new drawing he’s planning. He tells Bucky about the terrible television show he had watched that morning, and about the gossip he overhead from the nurse’s station down the hall. He talks while Bucky’s still drawn up tight, like a snail curled into its shell. His breathing stays short and rapid and tremors wrack him every once in a while, but Steve doesn’t stop. Eventually he’s rambling about anything that comes into his brain, things like how jet engines work and why he likes the taste of maple syrup over the awful stuff that Sam keeps convincing him is better. 

He loses track of time of how long he stays crouched there, talking about anything and nothing all at the same time. His knees will probably never forgive him, but it’s worth it to watch Bucky slowly unfurl and shake off the remnants of his attack. His eyes start to clear and his jaw softens a little. He’s still pale and beads of sweat dot his forehead, but he’s already coming out of it. “Thank you,” he says, voice hoarse.   
“You’re welcome. C’mon, let’s get you some water.” He offers his hand, but isn’t surprised when Bucky waves him off and shakily gets to his own feet. Steve leads him slowly into the kitchen and busies himself with fixing them both a glass of water from the tap.

Both of them sit at the table and quietly drink their fill, the silence starting to itch underneath Steve’s skin. He wants to coddle and comfort, but he knows Bucky can’t handle that right now. Finally, he asks, “Better?” 

“Not really, but it’ll get there,” Bucky rasps, swallowing down the last of the water. Steve goes to get up and get him more, but Bucky waves him off. He runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Fuck. I thought we were past this.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Buck. It’s been a rough week,” Steve tries, but Bucky shakes his head and looks down at the table. “Do you know what set it off?”

“You,” Bucky says simply. 

A rush of guilt races through Steve’s body and settles like a stone in his stomach. He never wants to cause Bucky any pain, not after everything. He wants to ask why, how, but the words stick in his throat and he can barely swallow past them. 

“Stop that, that’s not what I meant.” Bucky is looking at him now, his brows furrowed and his mouth a grim line. “I just…seeing you drop like that, it hit me hard. I don’t know if it was instinct or if it was some residual something in the back of my brain, but…I kept it together while you were in the hospital, but I guess getting home where I’m safe made it all catch up with me.” He laughs, but the sound is rusty and edged. 

Steve reaches out and grabs Bucky’s metal hand, pleased when he doesn’t flinch. “I know what you mean. I’d probably be the same if it were you.”

Bucky’s throat clicks when he swallows. “No, you don’t. Look, Steve, I-” he pauses and takes a deep breath. Something in his posture, the tone of his voice has Steve on edge. “Fuck, sometimes I really wish I had all those memories back so this wouldn’t be so fucking hard.” Steve presses his lips together to keep from speaking. Whatever is going on in Bucky’s head, he knows he just needs to wait him out until he can find the words he needs. After a pause, Bucky says, “It’s more than just watching you get hurt. Two years we’ve lived in the same apartment, sharing space, and getting to know each other again. You were a complete fucking stranger to me when I showed up on your doorstep and even though you have all these memories of us before, this…isn’t like that.”

Steve’s not sure why, but his heart starts to pound harder in his chest. He swallows and doesn’t let go of Bucky’s hand. The air around them feels charged and it prickles across his skin. He’s afraid to even take a breath, not sure if he’ll send Bucky running. 

“Steve, I…really like you. A lot. I think my heart stopped in my chest when I saw you fall down. It was like everything in my entire world just ended. I got to thinking, while I sat there by your bedside, that I needed to tell you in case this ever happens again. So, here I am. Telling you that I…have feelings for you.” Bucky’s voice is shaky and he keeps running his free hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room and never settling on Steve. “There it is. Take it or leave it. I know we weren’t…like that, back then, but I think I’d like to be now, if you’d let us be.” 

He could have knocked Steve over with a feather after that. That is not what he expected at all. It had been a long, long time since he’d thought about romance with anyone, his strange kiss with Sharon notwithstanding. The last person he’d loved like that was Peggy, and Bucky is his best friend in the entire world, but…were the two feelings really that different? He thinks back on the last two years, the way they’ve relearned each other and all the ways their friendship has changed.

“Pal, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I’m gonna need some kind of answer besides you sitting there catching flies.”

He clacks his mouth shut and shakes off his surprise. Bucky’s gone pale again and he’s chewing on his lower lip hard enough that it’s gone bloodless beneath his teeth. “Sorry, I just…I want to say that it’s kind of out of left field, but it really isn’t, is it?” Steve says with a chuckle. 

“Not really, no. But look, how about you sleep on it and we’ll get back to it later?” Bucky gets to his feet and tries to smile, though it looks more like wince of pain. “Steve, I didn’t tell you that to guilt you, I just wanted to be honest with you. I know the old Bucky-”

“It doesn’t matter what you would have done back then, okay? You’re you now, and if this is how you feel now, that’s fine.” Steve pauses and an ugly thought enters his brain. He almost doesn’t voice it, but Bucky deserves his honesty right back. “It’s not just because you think that’s what I want, right? Or because of some sense of obligation?” 

The scathing look he receives is answer enough.

Steve nods to himself and gets to his feet. “Can I hug you, at least?” Bucky stiffens for a moment but steps into the circle of Steve’s arms and the two of them melt together. “No matter what, you’ll always be my best friend, Buck. You’re the person that matters the most to me.”

The tension disappears in a ripple down Bucky’s back. “Thanks, Steve.” 

It strikes him then, just how right this feels, the two of them pressed together. He’s still not sure what to think about Bucky’s confession, or what he might want to do with it, but for now, this is enough. Bucky’s right; he needs to sleep on it, maybe even talk to someone.

\-- 

They hug for another long minute before they both head their separate ways. Bucky goes to take a shower, and Steve heads into his room and falls back onto his bed. His mind is racing with possibility. What _does_ he want? He closes his eyes and thinks back on the last couple of months with Bucky. He remembers the warmth in his chest when he took Bucky to the deli. The soft touches and comfortable moments of silence between the two of them alone in their apartment. How Bucky is so different, but Steve finds himself drawn even more to the man that he has become. 

Shit. 

In a panic, he picks up his phone and dials Sam’s number. The line rings and he waits, chewing on his lip. Just when he’s about to hang up, he gets a very groggy “’Lo?” 

“Sam, I need your help,” Steve breathes out in a rush. 

There’s a pause and then Sam says dryly, “Rogers, do you even know what time it is right now?” Steve glances at the clock by his bed, the bright red numbers indicating that it’s almost 4 in the morning. Oops. “This had better be important. Some of us are just mundane humans who actually need to sleep once in a while.” 

Normally, Steve would tease Sam for being such a grouch, but right now, his heart is making a desperate attempt to beat out of his chest. “I think I’m in love with Bucky.” 

A beat of silence follows. Then another. The silence stretches on long enough that Steve’s beginning to wonder about his connection, but then Sam clears his throat. “Okay…so…that’s a problem?” 

“Bucky told me earlier that he has feelings for me. So then I got to thinking about it, and I think I might have feelings for him back. But…I don’t really know what to do about it.” He doesn’t voice the niggling in the back of his mind that says you’d be taking advantage and what if it’s just because you’re here? He doesn’t really want to turn this into a discussion about his own stuffed down insecurities. 

But, because Sam is Sam, he doesn’t have to say any of that. “I already know what you’re thinking, and I’m gonna cut you off right there. We’ll save that talk for another day. Right now I have to deal with the fact that you and I are talking about the boy you like, like we’re a couple of junior high kids, Jesus.” Steve can practically feel the eyeroll down the line. “Anyway, so congratulations, you have feelings for your best friend. The question is, do you want to do anything about that?”

Steve bites lip again and sighs through his nose. He’d never really thought of a man that way, but Bucky wasn’t just some guy he met on the street. His entire world had revolved around Bucky when they were younger, before the tangled complications of war and loss had wrapped around them both. Even now, sometimes it was hard to remember that the world existed outside the comfort of their apartment. They could get by without each other, but frankly, Steve didn’t really want to. It seems Bucky feels the same way. 

He knows that he loves Bucky with his whole heart. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that maybe it’s okay that the love has shifted into something new and different.

“I…I think I do? But I’m not going to lie, Sam, this is kind of uncharted territory for me.”

“What, dating, or dating a man?” Sam asks, voice neutral. 

Steve feels his face grow hot, thankful that no one can see it right now. “Both?” he says with a chuckle. “It’s not like I had a lot of prospects back in Brooklyn and it’s real hard to think about dating when there’s a war going on. And then-”

“Then aliens attacked, and Tony built a murderous robot and yaddah yaddah yaddah,” Sam interrupts. “Look, you and Bucky know each other backwards and forwards. Just treat it like you would a day out together, just…maybe with a little more handholding and kissing. You two are already disgustingly domestic, I don’t really know what you’re so worried about.” 

_What if it’s different? What if it changes things and suddenly we don’t fit together anymore?_ “I don’t know,” is what Steve says instead. He swallows down the bit of panic at the idea of losing Bucky. But, Bucky was the one who said it first, and Sam’s right about them being so inexplicably wound together. 

Sam lets out a sigh. “In all the time I have known you, I have never seen you hesitate about anything. You’ve jumped out of planes and buildings and been blown up more times than I can count. You’re really going to let this get you down?” 

Steve frowns even though he knows Sam can’t see it. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it really is. Either you act on the way you both feel and have the possibility of something great, or you wallow in your own self-doubt and let yourself wonder what might have been. That’s what it boils down to, you big idiot.” 

“How anyone let you be a counselor is beyond me,” Steve remarks dryly. 

“Please, as your other best friend, it’s my job to kick your ass into gear. Otherwise, I’m going to be the one listening to you when you pine pathetically about this if you don’t do something, and I don’t think either of us are prepared for that.” 

He’s not wrong, but Sam doesn’t need to know that. He’s already got a big enough head about this as it is. “Fine, fine. I’m going to give it some thought and then…” he trails off. Butterflies kick up in his stomach at just the thought of what could be. “Thanks, Sam. You were a real help.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can thank me by letting me go back to sleep,” Sam grouses, but Steve can hear the warmth in his voice. “Let me know how it goes. I need to know if I’m supposed to buy sad ice cream or celebratory balloons. I want to be prepared.”

“Goodbye Sam,” Steve says before hanging up and cutting off Sam’s cackles. He tosses the phone onto the bedside table and folds his arms behind his head. Talking to Sam helped, but it seems that he had some more thinking to do. 

Sleeping on it seemed the best idea. He climbs under the covers and closes his eyes, falling asleep to the thoughts of Bucky curled up behind him.

-*-


	3. Part III

Steve lets it ride for a couple of days. He still feels like he needs to sort out his feelings, make sure this is what he really wants. Things remain pretty much the same, but he finds himself more _aware._ Like when he catches Bucky staring at him out of the corner of his eye, or the warm brush of skin when they sit together on the couch. 

But it’s not just Bucky. More than once Steve glances down to his sketchbook to find himself shading the stubble on Bucky’s jawline, or capturing the plush curve of his mouth. He finds his thoughts drifting to what those lips would feel like, or how different the metal of Bucky’s left hand would feel in contrast to his right. 

Okay, so maybe it was simpler than he was making it out to be. Sam had a point about how Steve usually just jumped in with both feet. He just…wants to be sure. 

It’s about three days later when it hits him. The two of them have just finished dinner, a delicious homemade pasta dish Bucky found somewhere on the Internet, and are standing at the sink. Steve’s washing their dinner dishes since Bucky cooked while Bucky stands next to him, drying and putting them away. He’s humming, a habit he’d picked up in the months he’s been with Steve in their apartment. 

Steve can’t help the small smile that quirks up the corner of his mouth. It’s just so…domestic. The way they orbit around one another makes his insides squirm, but in a good way. How could he have missed this, the way it feels for them to just be together?

Before he can think better of it, Steve leans over and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s stubble makes his lips tingle in the best way, and suddenly Steve wants to explore the hinge of his jawline with his tongue. “Thanks for cooking, Buck,” he says softly. His face heats up just a bit at his own boldness. He can dive off buildings, but apparently kissing his best friend makes him clam up. Who knew?

Bucky’s staring at him, a dripping plate still clutched in his left hand. His eyes are round as saucers and there are two little spots of color on the apples of his cheeks. “Steve?” he asks, confused. 

“Was…was that okay?” He thought it would be, but maybe Bucky had changed his mind? Did Steve take too long to decide to make the first move?

The shock gives way to one of Bucky’s rare smiles, small and sweet. “Sure was. Just wasn’t expecting that. Guess you made up your mind?”

Steve drops the sponge in the sink and turns around so that they’re facing each other. He lifts his hand and brushes it through the silky fall of Bucky’s hair, delighted when Bucky’s eyes close and he can feel him shiver. “You could say that. I talked to Sam about it and realized that…well, I really want to see where this goes.” 

Bucky snorts. “Of course you talked to Sam about it, you big meatball,” he teases, but his eyes are practically incandescent. “No matter what, Steve, I’ll be here. Even if this whole romance thing doesn’t work out, you’re still the most important person in my life.” 

The words loosen the last bits of doubt from Steve’s mind. A smile finds its way onto his face and he pulls Bucky close to him. It feels like lightning skittering across his skin; it’s been so long since he’s touched another person like this, been touched like this in turn. Plus, it’s Bucky. There’s no one else in the world Steve can trust like this. “Right back at ya, Buck,” Steve whispers. 

They slot together and Steve swears he feels something click into place inside his chest. He leans down and kisses Bucky again. He lets himself go and learns the shape of Bucky’s mouth, the swell of his lips and the curve of his tongue. Heat crawls up his spine and his entire world feels like it’s spinning on its axis. When they separate with a wet smack that makes them both grin, Steve doesn’t let go. “So…what would you say if I asked you out on a date?” he asks, feeling the blush blooming on his skin. Almost ninety-five and he’s still hopeless when it comes to the people he likes.

Bucky blinks and then starts to laugh. It makes his eyes crinkle and he looks younger. “I’d say that you’re real smooth there, Rogers,” he teases. He twines his fingers with Steve’s. “But yeah, I think…I think I’d really like that.” 

Steve tamps down on the giddy rush in his belly at that. “I’ve never really done this, so you’re going to have to manage your expectations.”

“Like I have? Being brainwashed for seventy years didn’t really lend itself to knowing how to date, pal.”

He almost says something about how Bucky used to be an expert at taking people out, but he doesn’t. Bucky of the past would have known what to do, but Steve isn’t asking that Bucky out on a date. “Well, we’ll just have to figure it out together, then,” he says instead. 

“It can’t be that hard. I mean, people have been courting their sweethearts for thousands of years, right?” Bucky jokes, finally letting go of Steve’s hand. They turn back to the sink to finish their dishes, but they stay close. Their arms brush as they work, and Steve catches Bucky looking at him more than once. Though, he can’t really talk, because he’s looking at Bucky just as much. “Honestly, Steve, you know me well enough. I think you’ll figure it out.”

“How come this is all on me?”

Bucky smirks and it makes Steve’s heart flip over. Wow. “You’re the one who asked. Seems only fair that you do all the planning. You gotta sweep me off my feet, Rogers. I’m not easy.” 

“You’re a shithead, you know that?” Steve mutters, bumping Bucky’s hip with his own. 

“One of the things you like about me, admit it.”

Well, he’s not wrong. “Don’t you worry, I’ll bring you on the best damn date you’ve ever had.”

The smirk fades into something softer, something sweet. “Consider me wooed already.”

They fall back into a comfortable silence and Steve’s mind is already whirring with possibilities. The deli is out because they go there all the time. Bucky still doesn’t do well with crowds, so a lot of the more touristy attractions aren’t a good idea. Bringing him to some of their old stomping grounds seems a little unfair because Bucky won’t remember, but there’s also the good feeling of being able to make new memories together. 

He keeps mulling it over as they finish up and end up in the living room. He’s distracted enough that he jumps about a foot in the air when Bucky curls up next to him. Steve recovers quickly and lifts an arm, pleased when Bucky scoots in for a cuddle. A small thrill shoots through Steve. It’s not like they haven’t done this before, but it feels different, now. He likes it a lot. 

“You keep thinking like that you’re gonna blow a fuse,” Bucky teases, grabbing his book from the arm rest and settling back in. “But seriously, whatever we do is going to be great because it’s me and you, pal. Let it rest for a while.”

Good advice, Steve thinks to himself. He lets out a sigh and sinks back into the couch. “Read to me?” he asks, closing his eyes. The familiar, soothing sound of Bucky’s voice relaxes him, entrances him more than the story Bucky’s reading does. For a moment, he’s transported back to their tiny apartment where Bucky would do this when he was sick, but he shakes it off. There’s no reason he needs to be back there, not when they’re both here in the now.

That’s when an idea strikes him. It’s perfect. Bucky’s going to love it. 

-*-

“Steve? Look, when I asked you to take me out, I didn’t think you meant as a kidnapping victim! Is this really necessary? You know that the only reason you’re not on the ground bleeding out right now is because you’re you, right?” Bucky gripes as Steve takes him by the hand. They’d taken the subway and halfway through the ride, Steve had asked Bucky to put on a blindfold. It had earned them a couple of strange looks from the other passengers, but Steve doesn’t care. Let them think what they want.

“It’s a surprise, Bucky. How can it be a surprise if you can figure out where we’re going?” He knows Bucky could probably figure it out even blindfolded. No matter how far away he gets from the Winter Soldier, some things are too deeply embedded to go away completely. Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t bother trying. “We’re almost there anyway, so stop your belly-aching.” 

Bucky snorts. “Some date you are,” he mutters, but the words are fond. 

Steve leads them down a set of stairs and through a old, weathered wooden door. He grins and tips his head at the girl at the counter, who just waves as she sorts books on the shelf. “Okay, you can look now.”  
Bucky rips the blindfold off and blinks. Thankfully, the lights overhead are a muted yellow, warm and inviting. He glances around and his eyes go wide. “Steve…what…”

“I thought about taking you to the library, but there are too many people there. So, I looked this place up at Natasha’s suggestion. You like it?” 

Shelves upon shelves on books lined the walls, organized by topic. Some were old and falling apart, others looked like they hadn’t been read once. There were even stacks of books on the floor and near the squashy mismatched chairs in the corner. As soon as Natasha had told him about the used bookstore, Steve knew that Bucky would adore this place. There were a few customers here and there, all of them too absorbed in whatever they doing to pay attention to them.

To his surprise, Bucky leaned over and kissed him. “This is incredible. Can I…can I pick some out?” he asks shyly. 

“Of course. That’s why we’re here. Go nuts,” Steve says, chest feeling like it might burst. Bucky’s smile is small, but he can see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “They sell tote bags here to take home your purchases. Get what you want.” 

Bucky kisses his cheek again and grabs his hand before heading off into the stacks, dragging Steve with him. Each section is labeled and they spend what feels like hours scouring through them, but Steve isn’t complaining. There’s a light in Bucky’s eyes that he absolutely loves. That alone is worth standing at the wayside, holding whatever books Bucky grabs off the shelves. He even finds a couple of his own, adding them to the growing pile. 

“Hey Steve, this one is as old as we are!” Bucky whisper-yells. He waves the book above his head. “Did we have this one?” 

Steve glances at the title and shakes his head. “We didn’t really own a lot of books, Buck. Mostly we just listened to radio programs and read the newspapers. Your family had a lot of books, though. Your ma kept them around for your sisters to read, and you would always borrow them to read to me when I was sick in bed.” 

Bucky nods and sticks it on the top of the stack. “Glad we can have a bunch now, you know?” He pauses and seems to finally realize just how many books he’s picked out. “Thanks for this, Steve. I even have a couple I can let Bruce borrow.” 

“Don’t thank me, you mook. I like seeing you happy like this. And we can come back whenever you want.” 

Bucky smiles and grabs another couple of books before heading towards the counter. They check out and chat with the salesgirl who compliments Bucky on his choices, and the two swap some recommendations. They carry out about three tote bags full of books and Bucky’s whistling as they make their way up the stairs. 

“Okay, where to next?” 

Steve glances around. “Well, I figured we could get some dinner together…” he says, going a bit red “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, if I’m honest. Is there anything you want to try?”

“You’re really terrible at this date thing, Steve,” Bucky teases him, nudging him with an elbow. He still looks pleased, so Steve still counts it as a win. “Surprise me.”

They end up at a Japanese restaurant about three blocks from the bookstore. As much as Steve has experienced the future and its many variety of foods through Sam and Natasha, this is just as much of a first for him as it is Bucky. They’re both absolutely delighted by the hibachi chef and his antics, and the food is delicious. Steve can’t even say he minds the fact that they’re too distracted to talk. 

“I want to eat here everyday,” Bucky mutters around a mouthful of fried rice and chicken. He’s mastered the chopsticks and keeps poking fun at Steve, who gave up and is just using his fork. “I can’t believe you’ve been unfrozen for this long and you’ve never done this.”

Steve shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “Never had a reason to. But…I think it’s kind of nice, don’t you think?” he replies, bashful. There aren’t a lot of firsts he can give to Bucky, given their history and the time they spent apart. “I just-”

“Steve, it’s fine,” Bucky assures him. He reaches over with his flesh hand and gives Steve’s a squeeze. “I get it. And you’re right, it’s real nice getting to make these memories with you now.” 

Bucky’s words warm him all the way down to his toes. He doesn’t care that he’s probably smiling like a moron throughout the rest of the meal. 

By the time they pay and head out, the sun is starting to dip below the horizon. The sky is painted in bright oranges and reds and purples, and for a moment Steve wants to capture it on a canvas. “Ready to head home?” he asks, taking Bucky’s hand. There’s only a moment of sharp worry that lances through him before it fades away. He doesn’t care who sees him being sweet with Bucky and Bucky doesn’t seem too bothered by it either. 

“Can we sit?” Bucky replies. 

They walk over to a small park nearby and sit down on one of the benches. It’s quiet and companionable, the two of them still holding hands and sitting close. The day has been perfect and he feels good, probably for the first time in a very long time. 

“Thank you. I know you don’t like hearing it all the time, but…thank you,” Bucky says after a long moment.

“For what?” Steve can’t help but ask.

Bucky turns to him and looks up at him through his lashes. “For today, for everyday. For being here with me. For not giving up on me even though I’m not…you know.” He shifts, but doesn’t look away from Steve.   
Steve’s heart aches. “You don’t need to thank me, Buck. You’re you, how could I not? And I’ve said it before, it doesn’t matter if you’re the same as you were back then, or if you’re different now. You’re still Bucky, my best friend.” _And I love you,_ he doesn’t add. He’s not sure if Bucky’s ready for that; hell, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to admit it out loud just yet. It’s big, these feelings. Maybe he’ll keep it to himself for just a little longer.

“Yeah, I know. And…this might sound weird, but if our situations were reversed, I’d do the same. You know?” Bucky looks down at their joined hands for a moment before bringing them up and pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s. 

“I know, Bucky.”

Silence falls between them again, but it’s not tense. It’s soft, almost sweet. They sit and watch the sun set in the sky, Bucky eventually leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder. He can’t think of a better end to their date together. 

-*-

Their little dates continue like that. They might not be elaborate or anything expensive, but both of them always come away satisfied with the time they spent together. Steve doesn’t mind the pace they’re setting, progressing from soft kisses and cuddles to making out on the couch in ways that leave them both breathless and hard for the other. He knows himself and what he wants, thinking about it when he wraps his hand around his cock at night, but he’s letting Bucky lead the way. So he’s going to wait until Bucky lets him know he’s ready.

He should have known better than to keep his best friend waiting.

Steve comes home from a meeting and finds himself immediately pulled onto the couch, Bucky’s mouth hot and inviting. They’re touching from head to toe and Steve can already feel himself getting hard from just the kisses. His hips snap up and Bucky pulls back with a moan. “Jesus, Rogers, it’s about time. If you were going any slower, we’d be going backwards.”

He huffs out a laugh and rolls his hips up again. “Sorry for being considerate.” 

Bucky bites at his neck and mutters in his ear, “Then you ought to be considerate about the fact that you’ve been giving me blue balls for the pasts couple of months. What’s a guy gotta do to get his dick sucked around here?’

Steve takes the invitation for what it is. “All you had to do was ask,” he murmurs. He gives Bucky a short kiss before he helps him out of his shirt. Bending down, he trails his mouth along Bucky’s collarbones, along the defined muscles of his chest and down his stomach. He likes the noises Bucky makes, soft gasps and little moans that make his stomach flip pleasantly. They’re different from the ones he used to make when they shared an apartment; two guys couldn’t share that small of a space without overhearing _something._

But it’s good. Steve likes that these noises are theirs, in this moment. It makes him smile against the skin of Bucky’s stomach. 

“Good?” he rasps out, dragging his tongue along the soft trail of hair leading down into Bucky’s waistband. 

“Mmm,” Bucky replies. His hips buck up when Steve leaves a lovebite right above his pants. “Feels so good.”

It’s heady, being able to make Bucky feel good. Steve feels his cock twitch in the confines of his jeans and he reaches up to slide Bucky’s sweatpants down his hips. Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath, which makes Steve smile and shake his head. “You’re terrible,” he says fondly. 

Bucky just grins and tilts his hips up again. His cock lays firm and pink against his belly, and it makes Steve’s mouth water. He bends down and licks a stripe up the shaft, huffing out a laugh when he feels it twitch against his lips. He doesn’t give Bucky a chance to recover before he wraps his lips around the head and sucks.

“Fuuuuuck,” Bucky groans. He tangles his flesh hand in Steve’s hair, gently guiding as he bobs up and down. “Steve, shit…I thought you said…” His stomach muscles clench and his metal hand flies up to clutch at the top of the sofa. 

Steve pops off long enough to say, “I haven’t…but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it,” before he dives back down. He slides his tongue along the underside as he goes down, his lips meeting the base of Bucky’s cock before he glides back up. 

“All those years of thermometers must have been good for something,” Bucky murmurs, sucking in a sharp breath when Steve swallows around him. 

He’s not wrong; for once, Steve is thankful that his gag reflex appears to be non-existent. But he doesn’t focus on that, instead he focuses on the warm pulse of Bucky on his tongue. The taste and smell of him is starting to make Steve’s head spin a little, but in a good way. He keeps bobbing up and down, alternating between soft sucks and hard swallows. He must be doing it right because Bucky is starting to writhe against the couch. Steve presses him down with one hand, which pulls a low noise out of Bucky. He files that away for later, keeping his attention on his task.

Eventually, his own cock is flexing and leaking in the confines of his jeans and he can’t take it anymore. He reaches down and deftly unzips to pull himself out. He shivers at the cool hair against the wet head, but it just makes him more sensitive. Steve wraps his hand around his cock and gives himself a few lazy tugs, keeping in time with the pulls of his mouth against Bucky. 

“Steve…please…I need…” Bucky breathes out. He can’t seem to form words and Steve feels pretty damn proud of himself for that. 

At least, until Bucky tugs his hair sharp enough to make him let go. “What-” 

“Want you too. Wanna suck you while you suck me, come on, please.” Bucky seems to have regained his ability to speak once Steve’s mouth wasn’t on his cock anymore. 

His words send a bolt of heat through Steve and he’s up on his feet before he can think about it. He pushes his jeans to the floor and rips his shirt up over his head, throwing it to the floor before he crawls back onto the couch. “How-?”

Bucky makes a twirling motion with his finger. “Ass up here, baby” he says with a smirk. Steve rolls his eyes and does as he says, swinging up so that he’s hovering over Bucky, head to tail. He looks down and feels his entire body go hot when he can see his own cock swinging right above Bucky’s face. He tilts his hips down and starts to feed the head into Bucky’s mouth, who almost immediately begins to suck enthusiastically. 

Steve lets his head hang down at the pleasure rippling up his spine. He has to hold himself back from starting to thrust, not wanting to accidentally choke Bucky. All he can hear is the hot, loud sucking sounds all around him and it drives him to duck back down. He takes Bucky’s cock back into his mouth and starts to bob up and down. Heat prickles across his nerve endings at the heat of Bucky’s mouth on him, wet and soft. It makes him suckle harder. 

They get caught in a feedback loop of pleasure; every time Bucky sucks harder, so does Steve until they’re both moaning around their mouthfuls. The heavy weight of Bucky’s cock on his tongue makes his face go hot and he swallows him down again, until his nose touches the slightly fuzzy skin of Bucky’s balls. He feels Bucky’s groan before he hears it and he would smile if he could. 

Bucky pulls back off his cock, the cool air sending a shock throat Steve. He lifts up to ask if something is wrong, but then he feels something wet tracing between his cheeks. He lets out a muffled noise of confusion, but the motion makes him tingle. “Can I, Steve? Just wanna feel you like this…” Bucky rasps. 

He shivers when what he guesses is one of Bucky’s fingers makes another pass across his hole. It makes him clench, but he nods. Why not? 

Another stifled moan tries to crawl out of his throat when the finger starts to push inside him. It stings a little, but the thought that Bucky’s _inside of him_ makes his head spin a little. His hips start to rock to chase the feeling. “That’s right, Stevie, god, whatta view.” Bucky drags his tongue across the head of Steve’s cock before he takes it back into his mouth. 

As much as Steve wants to return the favor, he can’t seem to get his brain online enough to make his body listen. It feels too good, the feeling of Bucky slowly fingerfucking him. So instead he just keeps bobbing on Bucky’s cock, taking him deep and starting to speed up a bit. 

Bucky’s hips start to roll up into the motion of Steve’s mouth on him and he’s making the most delicious sounds. Steve can taste how close he is, judging by the salty taste of precome on his tongue. He chases the flavor and sucks harder, deeper. Spit and wet is smeared all over his chin and cheeks, but it just makes it even hotter. He finds that he likes being wet and messy with Bucky like this. He feels Bucky’s cock flex and twitch in his mouth and the next thing he knows, his mouth floods with come that he eagerly swallows. The taste isn’t anything to write home about, but the groans that Bucky lets out makes it worth it. 

He sucks him through it, letting Bucky’s cock fall from his mouth when the pulses stop. Bucky’s chest is heaving underneath him, but he hasn’t stopped. Now, Steve can focus on the heat of Bucky’s mouth, the way his tongue pushes up against the underside of his cock. He rests his head on Bucky’s thigh and pants, licking the last traces of come from his lips. “Bucky, please, fuck,” he grits out. 

Bucky starts to thrust harder and his head starts to bob faster. Steve can feel the pressure building low in his stomach and he rides the pleasure. He pushes back down into Bucky’s mouth, gentle at first, but Bucky’s metal hand clenches harder into the meat of his ass. Taking the hint, Steve rocks his hips and feeds more of his cock into Bucky’s waiting mouth, shivering when he feels the vibrations from Bucky’s eager noises. Fuck, it feels good. 

He feels his face go hot when he realizes how close he is. “Bucky, gonna come, just keep-” he starts to say, voice breaking off into a whine when Bucky slides another finger into him. The burn ripples through him but it’s perfect. “Shit, Bucky, please!” One more good suck and he feels his orgasm roll through his entire body. He shakes apart as he bites down on the flesh of Bucky’s thigh. 

It feels like ages until he finally comes down, nearly collapsing from how good he feels. His arms and legs feel like jelly, and he shudders when Bucky finally lets his cock go. “Bucky?” 

“Useless, I swear. C’mon you lug, get up here so I can kiss you.” Bucky’s fingers slide out of him and he pats his ass.

Steve huffs out a laugh and manages to muster just enough energy to roll off him. He wedges himself between Bucky and the back of the couch; their cushions may never be the same. They’re both sweaty and could use a toothbrush, but it’s okay for now. He kisses Bucky, not even caring that he can taste his own come in Bucky’s mouth. It’s probably something he’s going to have to get used to. 

The kisses are sweet and soft, nothing like the one that greeted him when he first came home. It feels good, just lazily kissing while the lines of their bodies stay pressed together. When they part, he kisses Bucky right on the nose. “What you wanted?” he asks. 

“Everything and more. You?” 

“Of course. I mean, it’s not like I have much to compare it to. At least nothing I’d like to compare it to,” Steve admits. He props himself up a little and keeps leaving little kisses along Bucky’s jawline and collarbones. 

“Guess Stark can’t tease you about being the world’s oldest virgin anymore,” Bucky teases back. He sneaks his metal arm underneath Steve’s neck and pulls him closer into a cuddle. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Just because I don’t have near the breadth of experience he does doesn’t mean I’m a virgin. But if you wanna think you popped my cherry go right ahead.” 

Bucky goes quiet and Steve tilts up to look at him. He’s biting his lip and his eyes look a little distant. After a moment, he says, “Well, I guess it’s only fair, I mean. It’s not like I can remember my first time. Besides, I think I’d prefer you to have it anyway.”

He knows he should say something, but the words stick in Steve’s throat. The weight of that settles behind his ribcage and his heart feels like it might beat out of his chest. “I love you,” he blurts out, feeling his eyes go wide. 

Bucky’s eyes widen as well, but then they go as soft as his smile. “I know,” he replies. 

It takes Steve a minute to realize what he said. When he does, he pinches Bucky in the side, making the other man laugh. “Way to kill the moment, you jerk!” he growls out, but there’s no heat behind his words. 

“That was perfect, holy shit,” Bucky breathes out between gasps of laughter. He smacks Steve’s hand away and his laughter tapers off into chuckles. He’s still smiling and Steve is struck by just how beautiful Bucky is. “But I love you too. I think I always have? If I didn’t, I should have.” 

Steve feels his cheeks heat up. “I think you did, it was just different. We were different. I don’t know, as much as I remember and reminisce about, I think…I think things are better now. Bucky back then was my best friend. The Bucky now…well. I certainly wouldn’t have put the other Bucky’s dick in my mouth,” he says with a wry smile, but there’s a pulse of pain in his heart. “You’re it for me, I think.”

“You sure you wouldn’t prefer the strapping young Sergeant from the pictures?” Bucky tries to joke, but Steve can’t miss the bitterness there. 

“No. It’s you. The person you are now. With the scars and the nightmares and the love of books. I know you and everybody else seems to think I compare you in my head, but I don’t. There isn’t any comparison, really. Bucky back then was my friend, and now you’re my…” he falters, not sure what word to use. Partner? Boyfriend? Lover? All of those words seem too small for what he feels for Bucky, for everything they’ve been through and what they are to each other. 

Bucky nods like he understands. “Well, clearly the old me was an idiot, but I guess his misfortune is my gain,” he says with a grin. 

Steve doesn’t remark about how dangerous it would have been back then, about how Bucky enjoyed going out and flirting too much to be tied down, or how Steve himself was too angry and bitter about his lot in life to be much in the way of love. No, instead he lets it lie. “Yeah, Buck, but we’re here now and that’s what matters.” 

“Yeah…now, what do you say we hit the shower and then go another round in your bed? I can think of lots of things we didn’t try…” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and untangles himself from the couch and Steve’s arms.

Steve is struck again. Sometimes he worries that his brain will try to super impose the Bucky that was on the Bucky that is, that he’ll be looking for a leaner, smaller version of Bucky Barnes. It happens when he looks in the mirror as well, looking for a scrawny punk with a chip on his shoulder. But it doesn’t happen. He sees long hair and stubble, a face lined with everything that’s happened to him. He sees muscles and scars and a metal arm, and it’s all beautiful to him. 

“You coming, Rogers?” 

Steve jumps to his feet and follows Bucky down the hall.

-*-

It isn’t long before Steve’s bed becomes their bed. Bucky hardly ever uses his old room and slowly but surely his stuff starts to migrate as well. Bucky’s clothes are in the hamper, his toothbrush in the holder by the sink, and his books have started to pile up on the nightstand on the left side. Even when he’s gone, Steve can still smell traces of Bucky’s shampoo on the pillowcase and see all the imprints of how their relationship has changed. He’ll never forget the way Bucky lit up when Steve finally just told him to bring the rest of it in there.

The sex they had that night was pretty amazing, too. 

They haven’t told the rest of the Avengers yet. It’s not that either of them wants to hide what they are to each other, but Steve can’t help but want to keep it close to the chest. There’s a small, bitter part of him that expects the others to make their usual assumptions. Right now, it’s just for them and they’ll deal with it when the time comes.

—

They’re all at dinner in the common room when it happens. Bucky’s sitting next to Steve and chatting with Natasha and Bruce about some article he read on the Internet, while Steve is listening to Tony debate with Sam and Clint about which restaurant has the best macaroni and cheese. He’s not sure there’s any real reason why it gets brought up, but the next thing he knows Tony is making a time-out motion with his hands. 

“Okay, woah…when did this happen?’

Steve blinks. “When did what happen?” The rest of the table goes quiet, so it must have come out sharper than he intended it to.

“You and the Red Scare here.”

“I thought I was the Red Scare,” Natasha says dryly, taking a sip of her wine. “Your nicknames need work, Stark.” She does cut her eyes to glance at the lack of space between them, but Steve still doesn’t understand how they figured it out. 

He thinks about denying it, but he just shrugs. “It’s a recent development. We didn’t know we needed to send out an announcement.” 

Bucky folds his arms and his expression looks a little stormy. “Why, you got something to say about it?” 

Tony puts his hands up and rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Robo-cop. I always have something to say about everything, it’s kind of my schtick. Also, I think one of you accidentally tried to include me in your weird footsie business under the table, so. Yeah. I’m just glad that Cap isn’t the ninety-year old virgin anymore.” 

“Tony, I wasn’t-” 

“Shhh, you’ll ruin it for me. Just go with it.” Tony waves him off and picks up his mug of coffee. “Anyway, congrats and all that. Do we need to organize a coming out party or anything?” 

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out before he answers. “No, that won’t be necessary, thank you,” he replies through gritted teeth. He knows that Tony is just being Tony, that he doesn’t mean any harm, but it still sets his teeth on edge. 

Thankfully, Tony just shrugs and dives right back into whatever he was talking about with Sam and Clint. The conversation turns away from him and Bucky. The tension that had been building up between his shoulder blades eases and he thinks he can finally finish the rest of his dinner in peace. 

“Should I say congratulations? Or are you going to give me Disapproving Face for it?” Natasha asks, propping her chin up on her hand. Her eyes are sparkling and there’s the barest hint of a smile on her face. 

Bucky beats him to it. “Is it really such a big deal? Nobody batted an eye when Sam started dating that girl from work.” 

She laughs and shrugs at him. “Sam’s love life is considerably less interesting than yours. Cap and his faithful sidekick Bucky is a love story for the ages.”

“I regret telling you about those stupid comic books,” Steve grumbles, but he can feel a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knows that this is her own way of being supportive and he remembers their conversation in the gym about Bucky and his memory. It warms him that she approves, even if he doesn’t actually need her approval in the first place. “I suppose this means we’ll be office gossip for the next few days?”

“Please, I doubt anybody is really surprised. I have been looking forward to this for months, if I’m honest,” she says with a shrug. She takes a sip of her water and before Steve can ask, she adds, “Astute powers of observation, Steve. It’s almost like I’m a spy or something.” 

“Or something,” Bucky grumbles, but there’s no mistaking the laugh lines around his eyes. He isn’t as free with his smiles when he’s around the others, but Natasha gets more than most. 

They finish dinner and it isn’t until a little later that Sam comes up to Steve and pats him on the back. Everyone else has gone about their business, and even Bucky had told Steve he’d see him back in the apartment. He and Bruce were talking about swapping books and Steve had watched them walk away with a smile. 

“Hey man…I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you. This is a good thing, for both of you.” Sam bites his lip and gives Steve a sheepish smile. “I can see it, what you meant those few months ago. Bucky’s a pretty cool dude, when he’s not being an asshole,” he jokes. 

They may have had a rocky start, but Steve knows Sam well enough to read between the lines. “I’m sure he’d say the same about you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. You’re like…settled in your skin.”

Steve doesn’t really have to think about it when he says, “It’s because I am. We both are.” He feels his cheeks heat up a little bit and he smiles. For just a moment, Steve thinks back to when Sam had asked him _What makes you happy?_ He hadn’t been able to answer, at first. Things had been still so fresh and strange and overwhelming. Everything had been a tangled mess in Steve’s head and he wasn’t sure he’d ever remember how to be happy, truly happy. Now, he was pretty sure he was as close as he could get to it. “I found it, Sam.”

Sam looks confused for a moment, until his face smooths out and he smiles. “Good, man. All it took was a good looking former assassin and a couple of orgasms, huh? Who knew that would be the secret to nirvana?” he jokes and Steve elbows him in the stomach. Not too hard, but Sam still lets out a sound like he’s been wounded. “Jeez, Steve, you’d think getting laid regularly would make you less of an asshole.”

“You know, I was the only one who didn’t tease you about that girl you started dating from the VA, and this is how you repay me?” 

“Yeah well, when I think about all the hardship you put me through tracking your boyfriend down, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” 

Steve knows Sam is joking, but it still hits him in the gut a little. “I never did thank you for all that, you know. I know Bucky came in from the cold on his own, but…”

Sam scoffs. “Steve, it’s fine. I knew how important he was to you, and…well, if our positions had been reversed, I know you would have done the same for me.” His eyes go a little soft for a moment before it disappears. Steve doesn’t have to ask about the shadow that crossed Sam’s heart for the barest hint of a second, so he lets it go. “Plus, who’s really going to say no to Captain America? Isn’t that like treason?”

Steve doesn’t dignify that with a response. “See if I tell you thank you again.” 

“Whatever, man.” Sam’s still smiling when he thumps Steve on the back again and he heads off towards the elevator. 

He stands there for a moment, thinking about everything that had happened that evening. He had been expecting the worst, but his teammates never cease to amaze him. Steve shakes his head, smiling as he finishes putting the dishes away. He’s ready to go back and see Bucky again. He knows the others would tease him about being in the “honeymoon period” or whatever it’s called, but he doesn’t care.

It’s a quiet elevator ride back to the floor he shares with Bucky and the sight that greets him makes him smile. Bucky’s curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and looking comfortable. Steve almost doesn’t want to disturb him, but Bucky calls out, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the serum says otherwise,” he snarks back as he crosses the living room. He flops down onto the couch and Bucky flops over, his head in Steve’s lap. It’s a familiar position, both from when they were younger and from all the time they’ve spent together in the here and now. His heart balloons in his chest and he immediately starts threading his fingers in Bucky’s hair. It’s soft and silky. “What did you think about tonight?”

Bucky doesn’t answer at first. His eyes are closed, but Steve knows better than to believe he’s asleep. After a few beats of silence, he says, “That your friends aren’t complete assholes? Will certainly make life easier. 

Now I can make out with you wherever I want and I don’t have to care if they see.”

“Our friends,” Steve corrects. He can’t help the flush that travels up his neck at the thought, though. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his small grin isn’t hard to miss. “Yeah, sure. I guess I’ll claim them too.” 

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them. Steve keeps petting Bucky’s hair and enjoying the closeness, the intimacy. It still boggles him a little that Bucky shows such trust with him, even after everything he’s been through. “Buck, are you happy?” he asks, echoing the question Sam had asked him what seemed like ages ago.

Bucky glances up at him with a wrinkle between his brows. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be? Everything’s coming up roses, wouldn’t you say? We’re together, we have great sex, we’re superheroes who save the world sometimes, and we’ve got a group of asshole friends that live in this crazy house that Stark built. What more could you want?” 

He’s…not wrong. Steve could agree with every single one of those things that Bucky listed. His question seems almost dumb, now that he thinks about it. “You’re right. I don’t know. I just thought I would ask, you know? I’m sorry, it was kind of silly.” 

“You’re kind of silly, but I love you anyway,” Bucky sing-songs, reaching out of his blanket to poke Steve in the cheek. “Why, are you not?” 

“I literally just got finished telling Sam that I finally found what made me happy,” Steve gripes, but his smile gives him away, he knows it. 

Bucky sniffs and snuggles reaches over to grab his book that he’d left on the floor. It makes Steve smile. “I wasn’t listening to what you and Sam were talking about, so. How was I supposed to know? You’re the one asking dumb questions anyway, you punk.” 

The nickname still makes Steve’s stomach swoop a little, even if things are different now. It’s a little piece of them that was and the them they are now. “See if you get laid tonight, with that kind of attitude,” he teases. They both know there’s no way that’s happening. Maybe that makes him weak, but he doesn’t care. 

As expected, Bucky scoffs and waves him off. “Whatever. Now shut up so I can read in peace.” Another beat of silence passes and then Bucky says rather seriously, “I don’t think I could be happier than I am here, with you, Steve. So you don’t need to ask me anymore. I’m here, with you. You’re here with me. We love each other, and that’s enough for me.”

“Stop being such a sap,” Steve manages to say around the lump in his throat. 

“You’re just mad because I stole your thunder.”

Bucky’s such an asshole sometimes, but Steve loves him for it. He leans down and kisses Bucky’s nose, watching it scrunch up adorably. “Why don’t you read to me?” he asks, instead of rising to the obvious bait. 

“I shouldn’t, but I guess I’ll humor you.” Bucky rolls over onto his back and lifts his book up. He starts to read, “Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds posses is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need. First is the door of sleep…”

Steve closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him. They’re fitting, he supposes, considering everything. It had been a long journey for the both of them and they were both still here, and together. He knows it won’t always be perfect, that there will still be nightmares and memory gaps and the feelings that come with both of them. Both of them are broken in different ways, even now, but their jagged pieces fit together in a way that that Steve never expected. So, he meant what he said to Sam, earlier. They’ve come so far and now, this is what they have to show for it. Bucky’s going to read and then they’re going to go to bed, together.

He can’t think of anything better.

-END-

_Stop and say you love me, always, and I’ll say the same to you._

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved it? Come and let me know here or over at [my Tumblr!](http://hazandlouwho.tumblr.com)


End file.
